


by blood and by me, i'll fall when you leave

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [58]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Buck Needs A Lot of Hug, M/M, Mal Needs A Lot of Hug and Hot Chocolate, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malarkey and Compton, from Aldbourne to Bastogne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Compton

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mols](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mols/gifts).



> [theonlythingilookuptoisthesky](http://theonlythingilookuptoisthesky.tumblr.com/) has requested for Buck and Malarkey relationship and this happens.

What was supposed to be a one time thing turned into almost nightly activity between him and Malarkey.

Truthfully, he didn’t plan on it because there was too much risk.

If someone caught them, if someone knew what he was doing to Malarkey behind closed door, on his bed or on the floor or against the thin wood wall; both of them could be kicked out from the army or worst, being shot point blank in the head.

But one look from Mal after the first night –his eyes wide like a doe– he found himself moved almost involuntarily to be closer to the redhead. Sliding his body against Mal in the tight space amidst the crowds in the pub; his chest pressing on Mal’s back, his fingers wrapped around Mal’s wrist as he showed the correct way to throw darts. And he felt something akin to pride when he felt the shudder ran through Mal’s body when he brushed his lips against Mal’s ear and praised, _One hell of a shot_ when Mal hit bulls-eye.

That night he took Mal to his bed again, fucked him slow unlike the previous night because he wanted Mal to know that despite his big frame, despite his booming voice, despite his calloused hands; he could still be gentle and Mal knew it; he felt it from the way the redhead whispered his name against his throat, clenched his ass around his prick, body moved to the slow, languid rhythm.

It was so easy to take, take, _take_ even when they were about to jump into Normandy, even when they were about to get killed in the war, even when Dick reprimanded him.

_Never put yourself in position where you can take from this men._

But he didn’t heed Dick’s advice because it was so easy to take from Mal when he was so willing to give.

It was so easy to steal Mal away from his friends under the pretense that he wanted Malarkey to do something for him. It was so easy to press Mal against the wooden surface, hidden away from the other men. It was so easy to lick Mal’s soft lips and tasted the bitter smoke and tangy anxiety on his tongue.

_You’ll be fine. You are the finest soldier this company has._

He meant every words that he whispered into Mal’s warm skin. He’d seen Mal handled the mortar, he’d seen the blazing determined look in his brown eyes when they practiced shooting.

Mal never once fumbled with the grenade.

But here, with his hand inside Mal’s trousers; Mal fumbled. His whole body shaking with anticipation as he wrapped his fingers around Mal’s cock; pressed his thumb on the head, his mouth slow sliding against Mal’s, swallowing his soft whimpers.

Later, when Mal came on his hand, coating his fingers with thick cum; he would feel the warm breath on his neck as Mal whispered,

_You’ll be okay too._

And when they met again in Sainte Mere Eglise, his eyes immediately found Malarkey and something like relief, something like calm prevaded his heart and he brushed them away because in war there was no place for such feelings.

Yet they latched on him tightly, sinking their fingers in his heart as he led the men to Brecourt Manor, Malarkey following behind; eyes wide and trusting and he wanted to grip Mal’s shoulders and shook him hard and told him to quite looking like Mal would follow him to the end of the world.

But the look stayed.

Even when they successfully destroyed the Germans’ artillery; even when Malarkey saw death and gore that it made his eyes darkened with remorse; the hopeful look still stayed when Mal looked at him.

And he was so weak, so very weak because there shouldn’t be feelings in the middle of the war, there shouldn’t be contentment, there shouldn’t be comfort; but Mal gave him all that when he pulled Mal into the dark alleyway. He cupped Mal’s greasy face, commended him on a job well done before gently kissing the redhead.

As the trucks passing by carrying soldiers to move out from the Sainte Mere Eglise, he surrendered to the feelings because Mal was warm, Mal was alive and Mal tasted like victory and triumph because they had survived the jump and they had survived the battle and like this, with their lips bruising one another, with their hands roaming and touching, with their voices drawing out moans and groans and whimpers; he could afford to let go and embraced the feelings.

They continued being together through Carentan; whispering soft words on each other’s skin as they moved in perfect sync.

_You did a great job with the mortar today. You, Malarkey, the mortar king.You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive._

Yet despite Mal’s hopeful look, and soft lips, and willing body; he knew this was just comfort between two soldiers. He knew this would amount to nothing, and when they got back to Normandy to rest their wary bodies and exhausted heart; he pulled away from Mal. Spending his time more with Luz and it was a mistake on his part to assume that Mal won’t fight for him.

It was a mistake when he flirted casually with Luz because the look on Mal’s eyes now were blazing with anger and possession and he _swore_ he didn’t plan on this.

When Mal pushed him on the side of the pub, crowding him, grabbing his sharp chin with his fingers and forcing him to look into Mal’s brown eyes; he went easily.

And Mal probably saw what he tried to hide because his eyes suddenly turned soft, yet his hold was still firm and his voice hard when he said,

_Get it through your head that I won’t ever gonna leave you._

But even then–

–Even then he wasn’t hoping for anything; wasn’t hoping for Mal to keep his words because for him they were _just_ words. Until he got shot in Holland, until the bullet pierced through his flesh and blood flowing out, dirtying his shaking fingers and Mal’s voice suddenly became too high and too whiny whenever he felt stressed; calling for medic, his eyes clouded with panic, offering his thigh as a soft place for him to rest his head as Doc Roe checked on his wounds.

_Just go! Just... Just leave me here for the Germans._

_What? Are you nuts?!_

He believed Mal’s words when Bill and Muck had helped Mal carried him on a barn door; ignoring the mortars and the bullets that still flew around them.

He believed it more when Mal visited him at the aid station; smiling softly at him and cracking jokes about his big butts now no longer a virgin, _being pierced by a bullet._

He wanted to reach out his hand and ran his fingers in Mal’s hair but Mal reached out for his hand instead; clasping it firmly as he looked through him; murmuring gently,

_I told you, I would never leave you._

Something in his chest burned brightly, something akin to adoration, something close to protectiveness, something similar to love.

_I know now_ , he whispered back; burrowing his face on the pillow as Mal’s eyes still boring into his, not quite wanting Mal to know these feelings yet.

Yet somehow he knew Mal knew because even he was discharged from the aid station, even when sometimes his eyes looked glassy and he had nightmares about Mal leaving him, abandoning him; Mal stayed.

A comforting presence by his side, a warmth that calmed him down; the light that beaconed him home.

But even Mal’s warmth couldn’t keep him sane in the cold of the Ardennes forest.


	2. Malarkey

Bastogne was ruthless.

The snowy Ardennes forest brought him no comfort as he shivered in his foxhole; waiting with dread heaving in his belly for the German to shell them.

Everywhere he looked, death had touched its fingers and left permanent marks; from the soldiers who were buried in piles of snow; frozen to the bones, to the trees missing their barks, mangled beyond repaired; death was everywhere, and none of them could escape it clutched.

Even when they tried to outsmart it, even when they thought they were being clever by playing its own game; death crept up on them too suddenly; as sudden as the German artillery showering on them; making everything too bright and too loud and in that moment he started praying even when he had lost faith in God because God wouldn’t let this go on for too long, God wouldn’t let this happen in the first place, God wouldn’t abandon them in the cold Ardennes forest to fend for themselves; but he prayed, crouching in his foxhole, hugging himself because it was too cold, so very cold and he suddenly wanted Buck there with him.

Buck–

–With his blue eyes that reminded him of the California sky, with his warm smile that reminded him of the California sun. Buck’s touches had warmed him throughout the war; from Aldbourne to Holland; the warmth had been a constant comfort.

He wanted Buck there with him, to hold him, to press his face on Buck’s neck, to grip Buck’s forearms tight because with Buck nothing could touch him. Even when Buck wasn’t the same anymore after he got shot, even when he got too skittish and too careful; his eyes wild when he scolded Bill and Muck and Luz to not do anything stupid; he still wanted Buck.

Buck with his too blue eyes that always looked at him like he would bolt at any moment; Buck who looked at him with wonderment in his eyes.

_I would never leave you. We are here together, Buck. Stop looking at me like I’d leave._

Buck pressed his body close to his then, wrapping his bulky arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer and he felt so warm despite the snow falling down on them, covering Buck’s face in tiny white flakes. They couldn’t do anything except to snuggle close; even when he wanted to run his fingers on Buck’s face, to feel the rough skin underneath his fingers, to make sure that he was really there, not one of his imaginations.

He didn’t know at that moment while he was wishing Buck to be near him, his two best friends had already left him –their voices being carried into the cold wind– their bodies vanished into thin air.

He didn’t know that Buck was having a mental breakdown –shell-shocked– when he witnessed Toye and Guarnere’s bodies sprawled on the snowy ground; he didn’t know that Lipton was kneeling in front of his Buck to coax him out from the shock he was experiencing.

He didn’t know as he kneeled down at Penk and Muck’s foxhole –accepting the rosary, brushing it with his thumb– that he would be left alone to go on forward with this war all by himself.

Later, when he was huddled up in his foxhole, the rosary clasped around his hand, Lipton had came to inform him about Buck and he swore that he had no heart left after what happened to Muck and Penkala, but somehow, _somehow_ he felt it hurting as he made his way down to the aid station to see Buck lying on the too small cot looking so lost and broken.

When he reached out and carded his fingers in Buck’s short hair, the man let him; blinking his eyes slowly as blue meeting brown and he could see the light dying and his heart broke for Buck.

_What can I do to make you feel better?_

_Stay._

So he stayed, coming to the aid station every day, bringing in letters from Los Angeles; reading them to Buck as he looked at the other way; wanting to block the proud tone coming out from the words in the letters.

When it got too much, Buck would crumple the letters away from his hand and he would stop reading; pocketing them in Buck’s jacket and Buck would catch his hand; gripping them firmly as he tugged hard that his body almost went sprawling on top of Buck.

_Don’t leave._

And he stayed, sitting on the cot, his hand in Buck’s, gently running his fingers on the waxy skin of Buck’s knuckle; trying to warm him up just as Buck had did to him all those times they were together from Aldbourne to Normandy to Holland.

He had so many words to say to Buck, so many things he wanted to share but in this cloying space with death hovering above them; the words were stuck in his throat and his tongue felt so heavy.

So he stayed.

Even when Roe had pulled him aside and told him they will move Buck to the hospital in Belgium to ease his trauma; he stayed by Buck’s side, following him to the jeep.

_You’re one hell of a soldier, Mal. A lot braver than me._

_You’re brave to me, Buck._

Buck looked away, his jaw clenching and he wanted nothing more but to fan his fingers on Buck’s cheek; smoothing his sharp jawline and kissing him soundly.

But he offered Buck his cigarettes instead, watching how his mouth curled around the smoke, wanting, wanting, wanting to throw his body against Buck’s and pleaded for him to not go.

Yet, Buck looked at him with sorrow in his eyes and saluted him before pulling him into a firm hug.

_Take care of yourself for me. Don’t do anything stupid, Mal._

With that Buck pulled away even when he gripped his fingers on Buck’s jacket, even when his throat felt so raw from all the words he wanted to say to Buck.

He let go.

*

Paris was magnificent.

The air felt fresh and the view from his hotel room was worth every dime of the army money.

The war was finally over.

It took a long time for it to end but it was finally over and everything looked and felt fresh like he was being given a second chance at life.

He thumbed the rosary in his pocket and looked up to the blue sky, smiling softly as he remembered Muck’s goofy smile and Penk’s funny face; the wound he got from losing them was still too fresh but he was healing slowly.

_I miss you guys everyday._

He said to the sky, watched the clouds rolling by and the sunlight shining down on him.

He felt arms wrapped around his torso, a warm body as warm as the sun pressed him to the balcony railing.

_Talking to yourself?_

Buck’s voice crooned next to his ear as he leaned back against Buck’s chest.

_Talking to them._

He felt Buck squeezed his waist before dropping a kiss on his cheek. He nestled his body neatly against Buck; thinking to himself that they fit together so well. He tilted his head to look into Buck’s blue eyes and felt his belly lurched forward because Buck was already looking at him, his eyes bright and clear; an echo of the old Buck coming back to him and the words tumbled out too easily from his mouth,

_I've missed you._

Buck smiled then, his eyes shy but he was smiling and he leaned down to kiss him on the lips gently, and this was familiar, this was comfort, this was love.

When Buck pulled away, dropping another kiss on his forehead, Buck whispered,

_I would never leave you again, Mal.  
_

Paris was magnificent and the sun shining down on him couldn’t compare to the fire that Buck had ignited in him.

**Author's Note:**

> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/146437397287/can-i-make-a-request-idk-how-i-should-do-it-but)


End file.
